Eat It ("Weird Al" Yankovic)

Life is what happens when you're making other plans.

When last I wrote, other than bitching about Blue Oyster Cult (NO caffeine before bed! NO caffeine before bed! NO caffeine before bed!), I was updating everyone on the goings-on in the life of me, Ralph Tetta, Mr. Big-Shot Comedian.

Our family picnic came off *almost* as planned, with mom driving up from Florida with her friend Robert. Only problem was that when she got here, she had a heart attack. It was a minor one, but a heart attack just the same, and she missed the picnic and spent the week at Rochester General Hospital. After five bypass surgeries, she's resting and recuperating at an assisted living facility, and she'll be heading back to Florida in a week or so. The bum deal is that she also missed the Donroe family reunion, as her father (my grandfather) was one of eight children, so we have dozens of cousins that we'd never met before.

My brother Christopher and his family made the trip in from Syracuse to attend the picnic, and then got to go see mom in the hospital, so she had no shortage of visitors. Pamela sent me an e-mail after the fact about the statistics regarding the picnic, which made me laugh a little bit because I have a live album from a British band called Saxon and in the liner notes, they go through their live tour that the album was recorded on and talk about how many guitar strings they went through, how many tea bags (because they're British, y'see) and it smacked of that. For the record, we had 39 guests, went through almost a whole case of burgers (40), a case of hot dogs (32), two pounds of Italian sausage (thanks Tim!), five 2-litre bottles of soda, 2 gallons of iced tea, various chips, dips, and dishes-to-pass including a veggie tray, bean salad, fruit salad, excellent chili, mac salad, potato and broccoli salad, two kinds of cake (none left over of either....go figure) and after it was all over, we donated 2 cases of leftover, unopened hot dogs and the associated hot dog rolls to the Open Door Mission....we bought too much, but Pam had coupons.

Sunday night was my third of three shows at D'Youville College in Buffalo, and Ray drove along with me. On the way, we stopped off at Chef Mike Kolady's house to drop off my sound system for a performance at his 45th birthday party (Happy Birthday Mike!) by Rochester comics Joe Fico and Pat Duffy. I would have liked to have performed, but was already committed to the college show. We dropped off the sound system, and while I was getting things ready, checking levels and all that, Ray was getting himself some of Chef's fine barbecue, and fine it was. Ray got a big "to-go" plate of ribs, chicken, various salads, and we snagged two Diet Pepsi's with lime for the trip. I didn't eat, because I know I would have been wearing barbecue sauce by the time I got to Buffalo. I had to wrestle with the mic stand because the clip lost it's screw, and we jury-rigged a replacement by putting a bent roofing nail through it. Not the prettiest repair job in the world, but it worked.

The gig was a good one, an orientation show for new students, and even though it was the smallest of the three groups, it was the most lively and the kids really got into it and enjoyed themselves, which is the essence of the live game show. If the kids don't want to play, there's nothing I can do to make the show a success other than throw money into the crowd.

After the show, I delivered some flowers and cannolis to some of Pamela's friends who had been in a car accident earlier in the month, and it was very late, between midnight and 1 AM, and after getting the "get well" presents at a Wegman's that was open all night, we rolled the van down Pamela's friends' street, looking for the right house number in the pitch black. Finally, I got fed up at my night-blindness and hung the plastic shopping bag on the door of the house I thought was the correct one, figuring that if it wasn't correct, they would enjoy the flowers and cannolis anyway (it turned out to be the right one).

Ray and I got back into town by 2 A.M., and had to make our way back to Mike's to pick up my sound system. The gear was out in Mike's shed, and his back yard was pitch black. Mike was still up, and shooting pool with some friends, and while I was fumbling my way around in the dark trying to find the gear, Mike was helping Ray light a tiki torch so that we'd have some light. I somehow found the mic stand by waving my arm around in front of me, and then moved up the stand to find the mic, and then followed the cord down to the amplifier. Once I got the cord wound properly, it was a piece of cake to find the bag that the mic and cords went in, and start my way back up Mike's steeply graded back yard. While all this was going on, Ray was getting the tiki torch and then moving towards me, forgetting that the yard had a very steep slope. He slid down the wet grass, landed in the ashes of what had been a fire pit earlier in the evening, and the tiki torch went out. All I saw from my vantage point was the light of the tiki bobbing as Ray walked, and then flashing quickly to the ground before being extinguished, followed by Ray's cursing and spitting. As I had gotten back too late to enjoy any of the barbecue, we then made our way to Jay's Diner for some late night food, and I ate my cheeseburger plate with a tired satisfaction. At least I didn't have jury duty the next day.

Yeah, that's right, I pulled jury duty as I seem to do every three years, and had put my service off until July. They originally were asking for my service in May, but my contractually-obligated college tour wouldn't allow it. My number was ridiculously high (945), and I checked the website dutifully each evening to see if I was required to attend, but the numbers never got higher than the 500's. I had scheduled a show on the Friday, figuring that I wouldn't be called, and by Thursday night, I had been released from my jury duty obligations. I guess the trick was getting the duty postponed, because they put me at the end of the new list, which is the same as not being called at all. I think I may have found a loophole in the system for use at a later date; not that I don't want to do my civic duty and serve on a jury, but I have a job that requires me to travel and more than that, be able to schedule months out in advance. If I'm on a jury that goes three weeks, there's no way I could predict something like that without an awful lot of notice.

So on Friday morning, Ray piled into the car with me and off we headed to the Wit's End club located in the Ramada Inn and Conference Center in Morgantown, West Virginia. We had an easy drive down, fueled by Sheetz Made-To-Order sandwiches, satellite radio, and conversation courtesy of over 20 years of friendship. I can't remember when I laughed so much. We got into Morgantown, checked into the room, and then headed back out so that I could get a haircut....I was due. After a nap, I shaved and showered and we headed down to the club and I introduced Ray to Larry Nelson, the host of the long-running comedy night. I couldn't coerce Ray into doing a guest spot, but Larry did, and Ray did great. My feature act, Washington D.C.'s Clay Miles, did a great job of revving the 40 or so people up for my act, and I went balls-out and did my thing. The weirdest point of the night was when a West Virginia state trooper appeared in the doorway of the lounge, suddenly silencing the crowd, which consisted of 36 white redneck bikers, and four black people. And don't forget the loud-mouthed guinea on the stage! Come to find out, he was looking for a gentleman (and I use the term loosely) who had battered his female companion after an evening of imbibing in the hotel bar, then trashed his first-floor hotel room and snuck out a side door.

The next morning, I grabbed breakfast down in the restaurant (best hot complimentary breakfast buffet in the business!) and trotted over to Wal-Mart to fetch watermelons and ice. We were planning on attending the Natarelli's (Steve and Eileen) Redneck Luau on Saturday night, and Pam committed me to bringing vodka-infused watermelon. I told her about the technique, but I never tried it before and she thought it sounded like great fun. It isn't great fun, by the way. It's a lot more fun to eat than it is to create. I had brought a big cooler with me in my trunk, and purchased a knife at the Dollar Store and vanilla-flavored vodka at a liquor store on Friday. I dumped 20 lbs of ice and two seedless watermelons into the big cooler, cut a hole in one of the melons, and turned the bottle of vodka upside-down and shoved it into the hole. Long story short, it works, but you have to keep turning the bottle so the vodka can work it's way into the melon. I kept the other melon clean, for the kids and anyone else who just wanted melon but no booze.

We drove back to Rochester, and coming through Buffalo in the home stretch, the skies grew dark and it started to hail and rain. It was real wrath-of-God stuff, and large men with big pickup trucks were pulling their vehicles over underneath bridges to escape the weather. Meanwhile, I'm slooshing along in the water and ice in my Toyota Camry, a Japanese roller-skate careening down the I-90. I got home, dropped Ray off at home, changed clothes, picked up Pam and Harmony, and off we headed to the Natarelli's. It was a fine day, and unfortunately we missed some of the earlier festivities, but the food was good, the watermelon went over pretty well, and we got to see a water-spout courtesy of the lakeside view of Steve's back porch. Another part of our indoor fun included watching the weather report on TV to decide if my house was still standing.

The next week was a whole bunch of nothing, and it was planned that way months ago, deciding to take some family time and enjoy my family and some nice outdoor activities. Well, up here in Rochester, it's been constant piss-rain all summer, so none of that was happening. Thursday night, I made my way out to Chet Wild's Open-Mic-A-Palooza, a showcase at the Comedy Club that wound up featuring 30 comedians. You heard me right....the show went three and half hours. I went on at the end, after spending some time around the corner with my mom, showing her pictures on the internet of the family reunion we both missed. I don't know how the remaining folks stuck around for the last comic (me) after over three hours of show, but they did.

Friday, I had a gig out at the Cedar House in Skaneateles, NY, with special guests Ray Salah and Travis Worth. After picking up some replacement parts for my sound system (that sometimes seems to get more work than I do), we headed out. I replaced the roofing-nail clip with a new one courtesy of the Guitar Outlet (four bucks, not bad) and purchased a new, longer cord for the mic. Come to find out, the cord was incompatible, but I had back-ups, so it didn't kill the show. What *did* kill the show was the first sunny day in Upstate New York this year, and we drew far fewer folks than we did the last time I was there. The show was fun, and I sold some CD's after the show. We would have stuck around, but there was literally no one in the place, not even bowling, so we headed back to Rochester, stopping off at a Buffalo Wild Wings for some food because I hadn't eaten all day. Just a word of caution....the mango habanero wings are HOT, and they mean it. Get the double bleu cheese if you know what's good for you, or skip the middle man entirely and just drink the liquid out of your car battery.

Saturday was a day of rest and recuperation, and then last night, I performed with Rochester's Dan Viola at a private party fundraiser for the Webster (high school) Warriors football team. I seemed to have remembered the words "clean show" being uttered when I was booked months ago, and I double-checked that with Joe at the club, and he said (quote) "Nah, you can do what you want. I came here on purpose to see Dark Ralph."

Now, Dark Ralph is my doppelganger, my other persona. Sometimes, I get tired of being Mr. Jolly Pants, and I let my inhibitions go and I wind up saying some pretty outrageous stuff. And I'm proud to say that I let Dark Ralph off the leash last night, but not so much that he bit anyone, just so that he could eat a little bit. I used some coarse language, and some overt topicality, but wasn't even as raw as I usually am. I was definitely not *clean*.

I did an hour after Danny's set, and the crowd seemed to have really enjoyed themselves, and I worked material in with some crowd work, and after the show, I got a really solid ovation, and made my way back to the sound booth. Mark, the house manager, shook my hand and said "You know, this was supposed to be a clean show, right?" and all the color drained out of my face. I guess they stopped counting f-bombs at around 85, which may have been exaggerated for comic effect, but is probably in the right neighborhood. I definitely left at least a dozen in a plastic bag on somebody's front door handle.

The folks shook my hand afterward, including the lady who was paying the club the money, and I apologized because I didn't know the parameters, and she said that it was fine and that the group really liked me. I wouldn't have had a problem working clean, I do it all the time, but I was working off of faulty intelligence. Still, the client had no problem, so I went home with my head held high, if not a little red in the cheeks.

This week, I start my August session of comedy classes at the Comedy Club, and I'm looking forward to a new batch of students along with some of the folks from the June session looking to brush up their skills. The game show tour starts up again on August 16th in Huntsville, Alabama, so I'll have plenty to do along with my teaching schedule.

The opposite of burn out is rust out. I've done 'em both, and given my choice, I'll take the burn.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY